Until the End of Time
by ArtemisIsMyMuse
Summary: Travel back in time to one of history's most tumultuous periods. Here, in this distant age, you will find two lovers, a Grimm and a Blutbad, challenging the status quo and defying society's rules and expectations. This is their story. AU.


**Author's Note: I've taken artistic license with the Grimm series, and at times, with history and language. This story is a bit of an experiment on my part. I wanted to write a period piece, and if it is successful, I may continue with a series of stories written in different historical periods. As always, I am obligated to go where the Muse inspires me. Hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Grimm series, characters, story lines, etc. **

**Chapter 1: November 25, 1416- Orl****é****ans, France **

The congregation gathered to watch the interrogation. Thirteen ornate high-back chairs were arranged in a semi-circle that followed the arc of the circular room; seated upon twelve of them were the members of the Société de Moissonneuses Sinistres. The center chair, now unoccupied, was an elaborately carved throne of ebony wood and rich gilding. Standing alongside of it was a young girl of about nine. She wore a simple white, high-waisted frock that fell to her ankles. Long raven-hued tresses tumbled down her back, a stark contrast to her alabaster skin and crystal blue eyes. A tiny hand gripped the arm of the throne as she watched the proceedings unfold with wide-eyed curiosity and a touch of trepidation.

All eyes were riveted on the two men standing in the center of the subterranean chamber. The interrogator was a middle-aged man draped in rich attire, his hair graying at the temples. Unlike the rest of the spectators though, it wasn't this man, her father the Duke, who held the young girl's attention; it was the man her father was questioning. He was like no other creature she had ever beheld. An aura of feral beauty and ferocity seemed to surround him. Soon, she would learn his name and his Wesen designation, but for now, she occupied herself with categorizing his many characteristics, just as her Mother had taught her to do whenever she encountered an unknown creature. He was held upright by long chains threaded through an iron loop in the ceiling, his arms stretched straight above his head. Thin streams of blood meandered down his arms from where manacles cut viciously into his wrists. He stood, barefoot and bare-chested, head cocked defiantly, eyes blazing crimson. He was massive, well over six feet tall. Brown curly hair fell to his shoulders, and the hair that covered his face and neck and chest only enhanced his feral appearance. Occasionally, he would test his bonds and the dense muscles covering his upper torso would ripple in the muted lighting.

The girl concentrated once again on their conversation.

"I will not recount history to you tonight. As you know, you and your brethren are duty-bound to serve La Societé whenever your assistance is requested. It is dictated by the Le Pacte, and for more than six centuries, no clan has ever contravened the laws therein. Please do not consider your participation a mere request on my part. You would be doing yourself and your kind an injustice." The Duke's smile was lethal.

"The terms of engagement are clearly defined in Le Pacte. Release me now! You overstep your authority by attempting to coerce my cooperation. We are under no obligation at the present time to answer your call to service. The Brotherhood does not respond to the whims of Les Français," the chained man spat angrily. A tiny gasp drew his attention. Looking in the direction from whence the gasp came, his gaze fell upon the little girl. To her surprise, his face transformed into something lupine in nature, and then seemed to struggle to return to its more human countenance. She stood transfixed, unable to tear her eyes away from this unusual creature. It was apparent that the beast did not enjoy her scrutiny for he bared his teeth, a low growl rumbling through his chest.

"I dictate your obligations." The Duke hissed. Perturbed by the creature's insubordination, the Duke began to pace the room—wide circles that slowly and progressively tightened, bringing him closer to the chained man.

"The English will not attack Orléans, they have their hands full with…"

The young girl's father continued speaking as though uninterrupted by the other man's objection. "War will find Orléans, and we will be prepared when it does. You will honor the compact and fight—as your father did, and his father, and all of your forebearers. This is not a negotiable point. We will not suffer the same defeat as Agincourt," he spoke with quiet forcefulness. The Duke paused for a thoughtful moment, and then resumed, speaking rapidly and with the assurance of a man whose dictates were obeyed and never challenged. "You will return to Freiburg and inform the Bruderschaft des Wolfs that they have been summoned by the Duke of Orléans and La Société. I require a fully trained regiment within the year. You have three months to return with your men. If you have not returned by then, we will consider it an act of rebellion and will respond accordingly." The Duke stopped, a mere foot away from his captive. But his attention was not on the man before him. The wolf-creature followed the Duke's line of vision and his eyes fell upon the weapons affixed to the wall—long-handled, with a wickedly sharp, curved blade—scythes, the weapon of choice of La Société. Each arched blade bore a unique inscription, an homage to the one who wielded it. "Do you require further persuasion or are we in agreement?" The Duke voice was subdued, but the threat was clear nonetheless.

In a mocking display of obsequiousness, the wolf-creature bowed his head and uttered but a single word. "Oui."

"Excellent. So tonight, you shall be our guest, and in the morning, you will depart for Freiburg." The Duke smiled again, but his eyes remained icy cold. Turning on his heel, he walked over to his daughter and began ushering her from the chamber.

"Elle ne survivra jamais," the chained man hissed through clenched sharp teeth. "Vous savez que je parle la vérité, mon vieil ami. Un jour, votre fille est morte."

With a speed born of a preternatural source, the Duke liberated one of the scythes from the wall and was now standing before the bound man, blade resting against his jugular. "Three months or I will have your head on a pike," the Duke spoke in a deadly tone. Pulling the scythe away from the other man's neck, the Duke returned it to its place on the wall. Blood flowed freely from the incision left by the gruesome weapon. The Duke swept his daughter into his arms and walked out of the chamber. The girl ventured a final glance at the wolf-creature. His eyes looked black now in the dim lighting as he sniffed the air. The chamber was filled with the scents of many past victims. Their blood and fear and misery still hung in the air—and something else that the wolf-creature could not quite place. The glower upon his face was replaced with confusion and then disbelief. "No," the word died upon his lips and the man bowed his head once again.

o-o

Tonight, it was the Duke who carried the little girl to bed and tucked her in. When he leaned over to extinguish the candle that stood upon her bedside table, the little girl spoke. "Father, what will become of the man?" The Duke sighed. He knew who his daughter was referring to and was disinclined to begin a dialogue that could reveal too many secrets—secrets he has assiduously kept for many years.

"He will spend the night below. In the morning, he will be released and will return to his home." Once again, he went to smother the flame of the candle, but his daughter was insistent tonight.

"Father, will you tell me a story? Please."

Giving his daughter an indulgent smile, he pulled a chair alongside her bed and sat down. "Of course, my sweet. Should I tell you a story about Dämonfeuer, Hexenbiests, perhaps Siegbarstes?"

"No, Father. Please tell me a story about the man. What is he?"

The Duke sat quietly for a moment and considered her request. Perhaps it was time for his daughter to learn about this part of their history.

"He is a Blutbad. You know what that means in German."

"Blood bath," she responded.

"Correct. The Blutbaden are a clan of Wesen that can trace their lineage back to Eisenwölfe that once inhabited the Black Forest in southern Germany. Blutbaden are known for their strength, loyalty and ferocity, and for this reason, they were first commissioned to serve as the private guard of King Charlemagne. Their fidelity and service was passed down to each ruling king after Charlemagne. War continued to plague Europe throughout the centuries, and their prominence on the battlefield became legend. As time and history progressed, word of the Blutbaden fearless exploits on the battlefield eventually drew the attention of a clandestine federation of Wesen, La Société de Moissonneuses Sinistres."

"The Reapers," the girl spoke with quiet reverence. Les Moissonneuses Sinistres—the Grim Reapers —navigated the ages in various incarnations. In the late fourteenth century, they adopted the weapon and garb which would then define the archetypal persona that identified them as Reapers—the scythe and long dark cloak. The Société was comprised of thirteen Wesen members. Le Maréchal, the leader of the Société, was a position of power that was passed down from father to eldest son, and from the conception of the federation, Le Maréchal was always a Grimm. The other members were handpicked by the Grimm leader and could be a descendant from any Wesen clan. Although they would always be recorded in history as the Grim Reapers, they would have been more accurately dubbed the Grimm's Reapers. One day, in the modern era, they would ultimately earn their historical designation as the Reapers of the Grimm. But for now, they served their Grimm masters loyally and helped maintain balance in the world.

"Yes, the Reapers," her Father continued. "It is a delicate balance between the Wesen and Human domains that we endeavor to maintain. There are not many of our kind in the world. We are far outnumbered by other Wesen clans and, of course, by the humans. That is why we, the Grimms, created La Société. Grimms are endowed with a special ability to recognize, influence and slay other Wesen. Whenever a rogue Wesen individual or Wesen clan is discovered, it is La Société that is dispatched to attend to the disturbance. In time, your abilities will develop and you will better understand the power that you wield. I will be here to guide you."

"And the Blutbaden, why do they serve us?" His daughter asked.

"As you now know, the Blutbaden were descendants of the Eisenwölfe, a particularly bloodthirsty, bellicose species. They had developed a taste for human flesh which they passed down to their posterity. As the human population around the Black Forest grew, the Blutbaden and their uncivilized tendencies rendered them a scourge in the minds of the people. They were hunted to near extinction until their special talents were acknowledged and harnessed by King Charlemagne. Although the Blutbaden could be barbaric at times, their skills at combat and profound loyalty were traits that the King could exploit. Over the centuries, the Blutbaden's power, prestige and numbers grew. But one aspect of their history never changed. From the moment they were brought back from the brink of annihilation, they have always served the Grimms. Remember that, Nicoline, for one day you will be the leader of their army. It is your birthright. The power and the privilege to do so is in the blood that runs through your veins. It is my greatest legacy that I will one day bequeath to you, my only child. Now, it is late and time for you to go to sleep."

"Goodnight, Father."

"Goodnight, Nicoline." And with a wave her Father's hand, the candle was extinguished.

Long after her Father's departure, Nicoline lay awake in her bed, pondering all that her Father had told her. Turning on her side, she stared through one of the many windows that lined the far wall of her bedroom. The moon, full and bright, radiated broad beams of light that flickered across the floor. When she finally fell asleep, Nicoline dreamt of large wolves with bright red eyes racing through dense, dark forests. Occasionally, one would stop in its pursuits to throw its head back and bay at the moon. The mournful echoes of the wolves cries drifted through her dreams until the sun once again greeted the horizon, and moonlight was banished by sunlight in the little girl's room.


End file.
